break it open
by Like A Dove
Summary: Quick and dirty drabbles for Zutara Month.
1. Relief

Zuko has been freezing his ass off all day.

All. Day.

It's not that he dislikes spending time with Katara's family in the South Pole. Actually, it's quite the opposite. They're happy and inviting, considering he raided their village so many years ago.

No. What Zuko dislikes is the cold.

Right now he's shivering uncontrollably, gloved hands clutching his bowl of soup tightly. Katara is stoking the fire in the corner of their complimentary hut. The stars shine intensely outside, and even though Zuko thinks that the stars are beautiful he doesn't think it's worth it to gaze up at them if he's only going to get more snow on his cheeks.

He eyes his and Katara's fur pellets with irritation. He can never sleep well when he's cold. It is going to be a long night.

He finishes his soup and sets the bowl aside.

_I hate this place,_ he thinks to himself. He wishes that Katara's family would visit the Fire Nation more.

He reaches for a second parka to put on top of the one he's already wearing. He doesn't see how it could hurt.

"What are you doing?" Katara asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Trying to keep warm. My inner fire can only help me so much."

"That's not the best way to get yourself warm," Katara says coyly. It's so cold that he can see her breath. "The best way to keep warm is to take off our clothes."

Zuko blinks in confusion. "What."

"_All _of our clothes." Katara is slipping out of her parka and then tugging at the waist of her pants.

_I love this place,_ Zuko thinks to himself.

And hours later, when he finds himself sweating, he realizes that he truly does.


	2. Luminous

"There is no way that would ever work! How could you even suggest that?!"

Katara thinks that Zuko is probably glaring at her. In reality, she can't see a damn thing.

"You just told me that the last time you and the Avatar were in here, that you kissed and lights came on—"

"I know what I said!" Katara shouts, feeling blood rush to her cheeks. "But I didn't mean that I wanted you to _kiss me_."

"Then why mention it?!"

"Because—because it's pitch black and I can't see anything and I can't believe I'm trapped in here with you. It'd never work anyway since you actually have to _like _the person you're kissing!"

She hears Zuko let out a huff of frustration. "But you were the one who—Forget it! Girls are crazy!"

"No we're not!"

"Yes, you are!"

"No. We're. Not."

"Yes. You. Are."

"NO WE'RE NOT!"

"YES YOU ARE!"

Katara jumps a little. Zuko's voice is much closer then it was a moment ago.

"Just shut up!" she snaps furiously.

"Me?! You're the one who's being—"

"SHUT. UP. YOU. STUPID—"

Hot fingers trail up her arm, grasp her shoulder and then yank her forward. Katara's mouth slams against Zuko's in a kiss that's not really all that pleasant.

But the fact that it quickly _does_ become pleasant is astonishing. Zuko's lips are chapped, he kind of smells like sweat, and, like Katara, he doesn't really know what he's doing.

But he's still a boy.

A boy who isn't ugly. A boy who is taller then her. A boy who, despite being trapped with her in this stupid cave for hours, has not touched her until now.

Neither pull away even after they begin to notice green lights beyond their closed eyelids.

Eventually both do step back. And then there is awkward coughing and hands being shoved in pockets. Neither of them want to point out the obvious.

Neither of them are supposed to like each other, after all.

"We don't speak of this to anyone, got it?" Katara can barely look him in the face.

Zuko looks perplexed. "Agreed. Never."

* * *

Years later, it becomes one of their favorite stories to tell as a married couple.


	3. Potential

**A/N: **Prequel to The Phantom.

* * *

Zuko can hear Katara cursing and the sound of someone hacking into wood.

Therefore, he knows that she must be practicing.

They've turned one of their private gardens into a training area. It wouldn't do for the servants to be spreading rumors about how their new Fire Lady has expressed interest in learning how to sword fight out of nowhere.

Zuko steps out of the shadows and Katara slips into view. Her hair is down, she's covered in sweat and her cheeks are pink with rage.

"Everything all right?" he calls out tentatively, holding out his hands and stepping up to her. She whirls around, clearly taken by surprise; Zuko jumps back as the blade nearly skims his neck.

"Uh, careful." He rubs at the nearly cut skin subconsciously. "It wouldn't look good if you were to slice open your husband's throat three months into marriage."

"Shut up," she growls, chest heaving.

"How's your practicing coming along? Are you ready for our lesson?"

Katara straightens her back and wipes the back of her hand across her forehead. She looks so tired already. "Zuko…" her voice is bleary. "I wasn't expecting taking your place to be…this hard."

"Well, you don't _have_—"

"We both know that I have to. It's just that I'm no good at this. How am I going to master two swords if I can barely handle one?"

"I think you've got potential."

Katara frowns, holding the sword up a bit. "How do you know?"

Zuko remembers how Katara could barely lift the sword a couple of weeks ago. "Well, for one thing, you can already hold your sword with one arm."

When Katara looks down and comprehends this, she smiles.


	4. Change

Katarak never thought that being tied up by a girl would feel as titillating as this. But, well, you learn something new every day.

The Fire Princess is circling him, long, shiny black hair pulled up into a tight ponytail. Her red scar seems more gruesome in the moonlight, but her pretty golden eyes gleam. She steps in front of him, perhaps a little too close for comfort, and peers up at him, pink lips curved up into a smirk.

"You've got something that I'm trying to find," she purrs, pulling something from behind her back. "In return, I'll give you back something that you've lost."

"My father's dagger!" Katarak lurches against his bonds. He can already feel the rope burning into his wrists and his hair is falling into his blue eyes a little bit, but he doesn't care. He can't believe he misplaced it in the first place.

Zuka (at least, that's what he thinks her name is) unsheathes it and studies it. "It's nice. Well, considering where it's from." Katarak openly seethes.

"I'm assuming that it's used for skinning yes? You probably want to be a hunter for your Tribe one day, hmm?" The princess steps right up to him, ferocious even though he's a solid head higher then she is.

He can't help but flick his gaze over the soft curves resting underneath her shirt. It is _awful _being a teenage boy sometimes.

She holds the dagger out right underneath his nose. "Your father's dagger for the Avatar."

Katarak scoffs. "Go jump in the river." He forces his eyes to the starry sky, resolve hardened.

He hears the princess let out a huff of impatient before screaming for her aunt and storming away.

He sighs, shifting in discomfort against the tree. After a beat the princess is approaching him again, this time with fire in her palms. And despite the fact that this girl is kind of a raging bitch, Katarak feels the first signs of begrudging respect blooming in his chest.

He hopes the Avatar and his sister show up soon because _oh _is he in trouble.


	5. Desire

Her head slowly breaks the surface of the water. Her skin is shiny and wet and her eyes are blue-too blue. She is unnatural and yet she is beautiful.

Zuko leans over the side of the boat. He should turn around and row himself back to his ship. He will not. Cannot.

"What's your name?" he asks, voice hoarse.

She tilts her head so that her mouth is above water. "Katara."

It is then that Zuko notices that she is naked down to her waist. She looks soft and so very _touchable_.

She slicks out a hand and slides her fingers along his jawline, humming a sweet tune in her throat. Zuko finds himself leaning in closer and closer, and the closer he leans the more Katara inches back into the water. Her hand slips into his hair and forms a tight grip.

Zuko does not care.

"I want you." She sounds possessive. Zuko can recall somewhere in the back of his mind the stories of what mermaids do to the men that they wish to keep. Perhaps he should listen to them.

Her lips disappear underneath the water, then her nose and soon her eyes. Zuko's face is but a breath away from the ocean and he can see a long tail stretching out from beneath Katara's waist, blue and lovely. The scales shimmer in the moonlight.

Zuko has never been wanted before. And because of this he tilts himself over his boat and follows this tempting creature into the sea.


	6. Stranger

Zuko tells himself that this is the girl who used to be his best friend.

There are streaks of gray in her hair now, and there are crinkles around her eyes and mouth that weren't there the last time Zuko saw Katara. She is technically still young; none of her children are fully grown. Her body is still curvy and healthy.

It is her eyes that give her away. It is not that they don't shine. They do. It is that there is no longer anything behind the shine. Just two deep blue circles that no longer lead to anything.

Her eyes, Zuko realizes, are void.

"It's been awhile," Zuko says. He smiles at her. He doesn't know what else to do.

Katara turns her gaze to him and suddenly Zuko wishes that she and her husband hadn't come to visit him after all. He didn't think he'd ever see the day where she'd give him such a forced, fake look.

"I've been on the Island," she admits. She doesn't go into further detail, and perhaps that is for the best.

"As long as you're happy." The Fire Lord pulls her into a one armed embrace.

She makes a noncommittal noise in her throat, eyes fluttering, lips curving neither up nor down. The spirited, hopeful girl that Katara used to be not so long ago has not been buried beneath adulthood, worry, and loneliness.

While the Avatar and his friends have built up a new world of peace and prosperity, mounting new cities and bringing bloodbenders to justice, Katara has allowed herself to be left behind.

No, that spirited, hopeful girl has faded away into nothing.

The woman standing beside Zuko is now just a stranger.


	7. Wonderland

**A/N: Just a teensy weensy bit inspired by Theon Greyjoy and Game of Thrones. But seriously, teensy weensy. **

When Zuko was first dragged to this frigid, desolate place he had been a child, bruised with shorn hair and wrists wrapped in chains. He was a prisoner of the Southern Water Tribe, forced into their company in order to keep his father in check.

He had hated this land. He had hated the snow he had hated the far off mountains he had hated the chilly wind he had hated the food he had hated _everything_. All he had wanted was just to to home.

But things...things were different now.

He became a man a few years ago. He's worked hard, hunting and fishing and skinning, and is seen as almost an equal. The chief's son is his best friend, Hakoda has practically raised him, and the majority of the Tribe respect him.

But that's not why he has come to like this place.

He's supposed to be working but instead he is distracted. The chief's daughter is walking through the village, a basket of fish propped against her hip. She is smiling and laughing, blue eyes dancing, and Prince Zuko, heir to the Fire Throne, cannot look away from her.

She turns her head in his direction and he quickly glances away, determined to not be caught staring. But the next thing he knows she is right in front of him, smirk on her lips.

She watches him for a moment, smirk softening into an actual smile. Then she reaches out and brushes cool fingertips along his blushing cheek.

"You feel hot, Zuko. Perhaps you should go lie down for a rest?" She winks playfully and walks away, curls bouncing behind her. She's always teasing him like this and he loves it. Loves her.

Because of her this wasteful pile of snow has become a lovely wonderland of winter.


	8. Separate

Everything was hazy at first. But then, when the pain subsided and his mind cleared, he was able to see her face.

She took care of him. That was all he really understood. She fed him, gave him water, dressed his wounds. And yet he knew she was supposed to be his enemy; nobody from his nation had eyes that blue.

But one day...one day he worked up the nerve to speak to her.

"What's your name?" His voice was hoarse from disuse.

She glanced up from where she had been leaning over his torso, examining his stitches.

He could see the distrust in her gaze. But finally she answered. "Katara."

Days passed and they should have been long. But they did not feel long. Zuko was able to stand up and walk without assistance a week ago. He should've left. Instead he stayed and listened to her talk of her homeland.

He never thought he could care so much about someone he was supposed to hate.

* * *

They both could hear the booming of canons. The battle was edging closer.

Katara stood at the entrance to their little hideaway, conflicted. "I should go," she said. "There are people out there who need my healing."

Everything inside of Zuko screamed for him to tell her no. Instead he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"Please don't go," he breathed. "You could stay. Should stay. Here." He gently squeezed and let his implication settle itself between them.

She gave him a small smile. "Peace like this," she gestured between them, "doesn't last forever, Prince Zuko. But then, I suppose, war cannot last forever either."

She leaned down and kissed his forehead, lips cool. It was not the first time that she had kissed him. "Don't worry. I'll be back."

* * *

He never did see the healer again.


	9. Heat

"Katara, you're going to be late for the...meeting." Zuko's hand comes down to rest upon Katara's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Katara moans and turns her head, looking at her boyfriend through half lidded eyes. "Yeah. I just need a minute. Or two. Maybe ten."

Frowning in concern, Zuko reaches out and places a hand upon Katara's forehead. "You feel hot, even to me. I think you have a fever."

Katara blinks slowly. Well, that made sense. She does feel ridiculously awful. "I guess-"

"Don't worry," Zuko interrupts. I'll take care of you."

* * *

The soup that Zuko makes for her is too salty, plus he insists upon feeding it to her. He accidentally spills a spoonful of broth onto her pillow in the process.

Katara doesn't have the heart to tell him.

* * *

n the bath that he pours for her he uses her least favorite fragrance unknowingly, the fragrance that gives her a headache.

Katara doesn't have the heart to tell him.

* * *

The tea he gives her is actually meant for upset stomachs and pregnant women; it's not used for reducing fevers.

Katara doesn't have the heart to tell him.

* * *

The scrolls that he places on her bedside table for reading are all about the Blue Spirit, not the Painted Lady, who she's actually a fan of.

Katara doesn't have the heart to tell him.

* * *

He attempts to tell her a joke or two in order to make her laugh. He keeps messing up the punchline.

Katara doesn't have the heart to tell him.

* * *

When she finally does become irritated enough to tell him-in the gentlest way possible-that perhaps he's not particularly good at caring for sick people, her fever has a broken.


	10. Forbidden

She finds him sitting underneath a cherry blossom tree, arms crossed and with a frown on his face.

Katara hesitates before making herself known. She could go back. She could crawl into her bed and pretend that her heart isn't completely and utterly broken.

But she cannot say no to her Prince.

She moves out of the shadows, steps light and silent. Zuko spots her, and he smiles softly at her, pleased.

"You came." He walks forward and wraps herself in his embrace and Katara curls her fingers into his tunic. She can barely breathe. Nevertheless, she manages to find words.

"Why did you ask me to meet you here?"

He pulls back, but just enough so that he can gaze down at her. "Katara, I love-"

"No," she snaps. "Don't finish that sentence."

"But-"

"You're getting married in a two days. Do you think I haven't been counting?! It's all I can think about an I can't even _do_ anything about it because your father wants you to marry some Fire Nation-"

He kisses her and she shoves him away.

"What's wrong with you?!"

He laughs and Katara feels the old urge to smack him.

"I don't care about any of that. I'm just a prince. My cousin will become Fire Lord and I'll be expected to go into politics or the military or travel, but I don't want that. I don't want _any_ of that. I just want you."

"But your father...and _my_ father...we're worlds-"

He leans down and kisses her forehead. "I don't care."

She leaves with him that night.


	11. Serenity

They do not yell anymore. Whenever they're angry, they simply speak with conviction. The other always understands.

They do not drink anymore. Instead they have tea three times a day-once in the afternoon, then the evening, then at night.

They do not dance anymore. They tell stories and sit by fires. They pluck instruments and decide to make music instead.

They do not rule anymore. Sharper minds are now in place for that. They spend their time traveling and greeting old friends.

They do not fight anymore. They express their passion in other ways, such as through their elements and through riveting conversations.

At night they still hold each other close. This shall never change despite the years.

Zuko and Katara have grown old together and life has granted them peace.


	12. Atonement

She hadn't meant to do it. Honestly, she'd just been trying to tease.  
But Zuko hadn't taken it that way.

She'd been doing the dishes in the small kitchen that they shared on Ember Island and was currently elbow deep in soapy, warm water.

All Zuko had been trying to do was help. He stood next to her, his shoulder nearly brushing hers, and had started drying the clean dishes with a dish cloth.

Their relationship had been…different since Yon Rha, to say the least. Katara felt more open with him, felt as if he was her friend, felt as if she could tell him things.

So she bumped her hip against his playfully. He immediately retaliated by bumping back, a smile on his face but with his gaze still trained to the dishes. Soon both were pushing against the other forcefully while still trying to stay upright. Katara bit down on her bottom lip, trying not to laugh.  
And then Zuko splashed her.

She squealed in surprise and splashed him back, using her bending for extra soaking. And then his hand was in the sink, causing the temperature of the water to shoot to an uncomfortably hot level. Katara shrieked and Zuko laughed and before she could really consider what she was doing she bent water into his face, knowing that he could handle the heat.  
He'd always able to handle the heat.

Zuko gasped, dropped the dish rag and clutched at his scarred eye with a curse.

Katara felt the blood drain out of her face.

"I'm sorry!" she cried, clutching at his arm. "I didn't mean—"

"It's fine," he snapped, cutting her off. "You got my scar. I can't actually feel much there." But when he pulled his hand away the skin of his scar and around his scar looked awfully red.

And Katara, feeling awkward and uncomfortable and wanting desperately to cover her mistake, said, "Good thing it hit your scar, then. I wouldn't want to burn another part of you with another bending accident."

As soon as the words left her mouth she knew that she shouldn't have said anything.

Zuko stared down at her, eyebrows furrowed and a frown obscuring his expression. "I didn't get my scar from a bending accident," he said softly before turning away from her.

The waterbender felt something curl in her stomach, something unpleasant and horrified. She watched his back for a brief moment as her mind thought up all the other ways Zuko could have gotten that scar. For some reason she'd always assumed that it was an accident, something similar to the time that Aang had burned her hands.

But then she remembered who his father was.

She said nothing; she simply stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Zuko's middle, pressing her cheek against his shoulder blade.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, eyes watering. She tightened her grip on the boy, complying with the urge to never let him go.

"It's okay." His tone was reassuring. His fingers brushed over hers and she sniffed, wondering not for the first time what else there was about Prince Zuko that she didn't know or understand.

But there was one thing that they both _did_ understand, and that was that Zuko wanted her to let him go about as much as she did.

And she never wanted to let him go.


	13. Steam

Katara bangs on the door, still cranky from just waking up. Zuko always gets the bathroom before her in the mornings, which is annoying but justified.

Katara takes long showers. It's because she enjoys the feeling of the hot water on her skin, but mostly it's because she spends the first few minutes standing under the water spout, half asleep.

The bathroom door opens and steam rolls out, dampening her hair. Zuko steps out, hair wet and already dressed for the day. He wishes her a good morning and trots down the stairs, likely to find Aang.

When Katara walks into the bathroom there's a smiley face traced onto the foggy mirror.

* * *

She's tired and achy and she does *not* want to cook dinner.

Toph's is already at the kitchen table, waiting, and Zuko is sitting in a chair with his chin resting on his propped up hand, eyes closed.

Katara huffs and pulls at her hand in annoyance. "I'm tired of this heat. I feel sticky. And I know that I look awful," she complains, more to herself then anyone else.

"Nah, you look fine, Sweetness."

Katara feels herself smile; it quickly turns to a scowl. "That's not funny anymore." She slams a pot onto the stove. "And I look awful. I always look awful these days."

She sees Toph shrug. She doesn't see Zuko do anything.

* * *

The next morning Katara trudges into the bathroom after Zuko leaves, already dreading having to deal with her hair.

Zuko smiles at her, eyes alert and bright.

On the mirror are four words: _You always look fine. _


	14. Dragon Crossover

This isn't technically part of Zutara Month, but I figured this would be a nice was to wrap things up. Just a silly little Dragon Age/Zutara drabble.

* * *

The camp fire warms Katara's bones and sets her mind at ease. Which is good, considering the past few days that she's just had.

The rest of the camp, with the exception of Zuko, are in their tents for the evening, asleep, or thinking, or shaking in fear, whichever. Perhaps all at once.

Katara pulls out her dagger and sets it to the side. There's still blood encrusted on the handle from the last time she used it. She'll have to thoroughly clean it again, considering she missed a spot. Although the idea of using it again makes her a little sick.

And then Zuko is scooting up to her and she finds herself very distracted.

"Can we talk?" he asks, a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

Katara tilts her head to the side. "Are you okay? You seem nervous."

He lets out a humorless laugh. "That's because I am." He runs a hand over the back of his neck, clears his throat a couple of times.

"Listen, Katara, when I'm around you my head feels like-" He cuts himself off with a huff and starts over. "You make me crazy, but, but not in ithat/i way, it's just-"

Katara is already smiling. He stumbled over similar wording last time they'd managed a moment alone by the campfire, when he'd gotten the nerve to kiss her for the first time.

"Spit it out," she teases, moving a little closer to him.

He stares at her for a long, unsettling moment before ducking his head and covering his face with his hands. He says something, but it's muffled and she can't make it out.

"Sorry?"

He groans and looks back up at her. "I'm not good at words but, fuck it. We might die, well, you're inot/i going to die if I have anything to say about it, but I might die. And this might all end badly. And I feel really strongly about you and..."

He looks so earnest and she cannot pull her eyes away from him.

"Spend the night with me?" he finally asks, expression both sheepish but eternally hopeful.

And Katara is grinning and resisting the urge to giggle at the same time. "I thought you'd never ask."


End file.
